


Forget About the Pain

by MyEnglishRose



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Moving On, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, and feelings, it's not even that sad really, just a lot of self reflection on Arthur's part, this is just angst, this started as a vent fic so dont expect something extraordinary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 09:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19944115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyEnglishRose/pseuds/MyEnglishRose
Summary: How can a love between two souls who hurt and betrayed each other again and again can even work? Arthur does wonder. He loves Francis, a love so strong, and so overwhelming, sometimes he feels like collapsing under the waves of emotions hitting him, but he cannot let himself be taken away by those waves, because love... Love is not enough.





	Forget About the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> FrUk used to be my top ship when I first joined the fandom. Now, I still love it to pieces but I cannot fathom it having a relationship all sunshine and rainbow, like some other ships at least in the 'canonverse'. These two have so much history, and complex, canon, feelings towards each other and France is known to just flirt with everyone and I picture England as a quite jealous guy, so. My writing style is different than my previous works here mostly because I wrote it all in one go, kinda like a venting fic. I'm not even sure everything is making sense here since I haven't proof read it... but. Anyway. Have this.  
> Implied past and present SpUk because it is another one of my top ships now haha along with some AmeViet but blink and you'll miss it  
> Inspired by Back To You by Louis Tomlinson feat Bebe Rexha (title from the song too)

It's not like they never tried. 

Because they did. 

Countless and countless times again.

It isn't healthy, as Arthur has been told. It's always been a back and forth between them. When Arthur loved Francis unconditionally, Francis' mind was elsewhere, between frivolous yet brave women, and strong witted knights. When Francis was the one longing for Arthur, Arthur was preoccupied with another son of Rome with a dazzling smile and sparkly green eyes.

Then came the New World, new conquest, new loves and new heartbreaks. 

And Arthur... Arthur is tired of it. It's been centuries, and they still can't make it work, because it's just not meant to be. 

Shadows of the past still haunt them, 

“He still loves her,” the English nation says slowly, once Alfred tells him about Francis meeting the incarnation of Joan of Arc, or, as Francis always says lovingly, Jeanne d'Arc. 

And it isn't news to him, though he still finds it ironic, because Arthur didn't kill her. Francis' people at the time did. But even so, the nation is glad she can now live a peaceful and better life. He himself still has to meet one of his beloved citizens' incarnation again, but he knows he'll find them someday. 

Alfred levels him with a sad stare. So rare on his usually cheerful face. Contrary to people's beliefs, he does know how to read the room, he just tends to ignore the atmosphere at times in order to lighten it up. But now is not one of these times. 

“I'm pretty sure he loves you too, though,” the American nation replies, at last, surprisingly slow as if to measure his words. 

“But is it enough?” 

Alfred doesn't reply. 

He doesn't need to, because everyone knows it isn't enough. Love... is not the answer. This isn't some books or movies with undoubtedly a happy ending. It's real life, and immortal beings' real, sad, life. 

Call him a pessimistic, Arthur thinks he's just being realistic. 

“He let me go easily, countless times. He hasn't ever stopped thinking about her ever since she died. He hasn't let go, and that is why my love could never be enough, and his love could never be sincere.” 

Alfred frowns, looking down at his cup of coffee. Arthur recognises that look. Frustration, love and despair are swimming in the younger nation's blue eyes. 

It is a look that tells a lot.

Arthur smiles quietly to himself. Alfred is young and figuring things out, but he's pretty sure that he can work out whatever his issue is with a certain strong-headed Asian woman easier and faster than Arthur can with a perverted blond head.

\----

Roses.

Francis has never known how to change tactics and make his advances more unique to the person he's courting.

Roses, it always has to be roses.

“They are a universal symbol for love after all, timeless and classic like yourself,” Antonio laughs wholeheartedly as he takes a rose from the bouquet lying on Arthur's porch. “Isn't it why you chose it as your national flower?” he continues, now handing the rose to him with a big smile.

Not really, no. Antonio knows it too. Arthur's affection for roses has nothing to do with their signification, but more with his own history. The War Of Roses is what shaped him as a country, even though he had to fight himself. It is also, what brought him to the passionate nation.

Antonio likes to brag about that time, where he was almighty and powerful, and then defeated and sank to his demise by Arthur himself. They fought for a while, but surprisingly enough, their fights never were as intense as Antonio's and Francis' were. One day allies, the next day enemies, today their relationship is still confusing as it can be, and the rivalry still as strong as ever.

Alfred and Kiku say Arthur might be responsible. He begs to differ.

“As marvellous as they can be, they do not feel as special as they used to.” Arthur carefully takes the flower in his hand. The thorns have been taken away already. Disappointing.

“Francis does run out of ideas through times, ironic for the personification of romance he is supposed to be,” the Spanish nation supplies. 

Antonio takes a few steps ahead, fingers gently stroking Arthur's arm and then neck, only to end poised on his cheek, lightly caressing the freckles there. Arthur remains silent, green staring into green, but he also can't ignore the warm feeling gracing his whole being because of that simple contact. 

“Fortunately, passion hasn't the same issue,” Antonio continues. “If you want me, you'll have me.” 

But it is all it is. Passion. Endless battles in bed, safely hidden in the sheets, filling the room with sounds of pleasure. Are feelings involved? Does Arthur even want feelings to be involved? Antonio is as much of a mystery as Francis is, if not even more unclear. 

He is the easy option too. Someone he knows will be there, and despite his reputation as the nation of passion, he only sticks to one lover and dedicates all of his energy towards that lover.

Francis, on the other hand, cannot make up his mind.

“The question should rather be, do you want me, or is there another motive behind you being here right now,” Arthur says, not backing away but not closing the distance between them either.

“Love is a dangerous game isn’t it, even for beings like us. But I’m not here to play. Francis, despite his name, isn’t that good at this love thing. He lost everyone he ever loved, you included, and I doubt anything can repair the thousands of history you have together. And what I know is that I should never make the same mistakes.”

The Spanish nation shrugs, still close, and unmoving. “We can rekindle the flame we had in the past that never truly died out. But that is only if you want to. I know there’s a battle currently going on in your head.”

Arthur doesn’t reply — because it is true. He used to be so sure about his feelings at any given time. He admired and looked up to Francis and loved him dearly, but then got disappointed and heartbroken when Francis decided to rather side with his siblings who bullied him during his whole childhood.

Then that disappointment turned into pure hatred as wars constantly broke out, as Arthur tried, again and again, to prove himself to the other nation, to prove that he can be strong on his own, that he doesn’t need Francis anymore.

Love came by again once Antonio left and Arthur almost entertained a quite surprisingly normal family life with Alfred, Matthew and Francis, before it all came tumbling down, again.

Again, again, and _again_.

Arthur is fucking tired, but most importantly he is fucking afraid of history repeating itself.

“Delightful,” the British nation supplies sarcastically.

Antonio then drops the seductive act and genuinely laughs, before wrapping the smaller man in a hug. Arthur finds himself smiling into it anyway.

——————

The painful thing to realise in life is that sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, you got to let them go because it is the healthier option for both of you.

Arthur used to doubt that, the way he and Francis always separated only to come back to each other has to mean something, right? 

No, it doesn’t.

And Francis still has to understand that.

“All we ever do is fight, and hurt each other,” Arthur repeats, his composure slowly being replaced by frustration at the man currently staring down on him.

“Because it is what we thought we needed to do. Times have changed, Arthur, why won’t you give it a chance.”

“And I’m the stubborn one? Francis, you’re still stuck on _her_. You’re coming back to me, again, to hope to fill that hole in your heart, but I can’t do that!”

This does shut the French nation up, as he looks between astonished, and scared, but also on the verge of crying.

Arthur would usually feel bad. Joan is a topic he always avoided around the older nation — both because of guilt and jealousy. This time, however, the words leave his mouth without an ounce of bitterness or shame rolling off his tongue.

He inhales slowly, trying to calm his beating heart as he looks properly at Francis like it is the first time in centuries.

It feels rejuvenating, scary, and heavy all at once. When Arthur looks at Francis, he sees his first friend, his first love, and his first heartbreak. The source of his happiness as well as the voice in his head constantly telling him he’s worthless, ugly and weak. So fucking weak. Francis’ voice brings in its wake all of Arthur’s source of affection and praise as well as hurtful and deceitful means within his unconscious.

“I fucking love you, alright?” Arthur breaks down at last, voice cracking as he carefully cradles Francis’ face in his hands. Francis melts under the touch, sadness overtaking his crystal blue eyes and he opens his mouth to say something, but the younger nation cuts him off. “I tried— I tried so hard to distract myself too. Antonio has been so patient and loving with me, yet he cannot erase centuries of conflicting feelings.”

“And I love you too,” Francis states, but it’s in an oddly small voice coming from the usually confident and loud nation.

“But we’re not good to each other, or for each other for that matter. We cannot go one day without insulting the other or throwing things around a room. Sure, the next moment we might be here, cuddling and laughing again as if nothing happened, but that’s because we keep avoiding the issue and then we leave each other again. And the other big issue is that. You haven’t moved on from her, either. You might have forgiven me, for an act I wasn’t even directly guilty of, but…”

Francis sighs, and rests his forehead against Arthur’s.

“Love… is not enough, I guess.”

And Arthur’s heart stops for a second. Hearing those words, from the nation of love himself, is quite the shock. It is sad, and horrible, in a sense, that Francis himself has lost hope in the sole sentiment he based his whole existence and identity upon.

Love has failed him. And Arthur.

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” the British nation speaks up again, “and most times I feel like the both of us tend to mistake one for the other.”

“You’re probably right,” Francis sighs. “I’ll still send you flowers every once in a while. As a… as a sign of friendship, and peace, of course.”

Francis still hasn’t understood.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I should make a part 2 someday with Francis' point of view. I often say that and then never do it


End file.
